


All That Was There Will Be There Still

by LotusMuse



Category: Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Power Rangers
Genre: AU, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alien Cultural Differences, Aliens, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Childhood Friends, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Expanded Universe, F/M, Friendship, Hallucinations, Kissing, Magic, Male-Female Friendship, Mythology References, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Strong Female Characters, Supernatural Elements, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotusMuse/pseuds/LotusMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after graduation, Jason loses touch with the other Rangers. When he turns up on Kimberly's doorstep in Florida the former Pink Ranger realizes that her childhood friend is hiding something very dark and dangerous from them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Was There Will Be There Still

The dream came again in all it's surreal dark fury. The dark corridors of a building rotting and rusting from inside out although the air was so dry he could feel his skin cracking. He'd stumble and put his hand on a wall to steady himself and feel a dull, erratic thump under his palm like a struggling heartbeat. The place was alive or trying to be anyway.

It was always the same.

The worst part was the silence, it yawned in his ears until all he could hear was his breathing. Sometimes he thought he could even hear his heart in his chest. His mouth was parched and licking his cracked lips felt like dragging a stone through rough sand. Breathing hurt his throat and cough brought up dust from his lungs. Dust that glittered gold.

He followed the winding corridors that twisted him around and down (it always felt like he was spiralling downwards) until he felt lost. It was always then he came to the Room of Skeletons all in various states of decay with their arms outstretched towards the brilliant red and gold chest in the centre. He stood in the doorway of the open room and let his eyes sweep it's shadowed corners for the evil that lurked there, the evil that pulsed in the very skin of this place. Tentatively he took a step forward and wished he had a weapon.

A weight sagged on his waist and he looked down to see a sword in a scabbard hanging at his side. Had it been there a moment ago or had he willed it into being? He couldn't remember. He let his left hand rest on the hilt and his fingers brushed a familiar symbol; it had adorned the top of the staff Trey of Triforia had given him as the Gold Ranger. Three lines atop the shape of a tyrannosaurus rex like a crown for the king of dinosaurs.

The stillness felt oppressive at this point. His heart was pounding painfully now.

Several dry swallows later he took a step forward, the crumbled rocks crunching loudly underfoot. Slowly, very slowly, he made his way towards the chest. He got to the halfway point between the chest and the door, exposed and too far to make it to cover quickly when he heard the 'something' slithering in the shadows. Jason Scott, former Red Ranger, tightened his grip on his Power Sword trying to ignore the unfamiliar sensation of the symbol of Triforia under his fingers. The blade glinted in the dim shafts of light that peeked in from open gashes in the ceiling. 

Something skittered across the floor like a cacophony of skipping pebbles or a creature with many, many small legs. It echoed through the chamber until, suddenly, the silence fell again like a heavy wet blanket. In one smooth motion he drew his sword, so familiar and yet unlike the sword he had used as the Red Ranger. It felt the same, surprisingly light for something so large, and yet a gold and black band wrapped around its hilt felt strange under his hand. The sword seemed... More powerful like he could cleve the world with it.

That's when it started again, the slithering sound like something sliding over the broken stones. His heart began to pound in his chest as he took a slow, deep breath trying to fight away a fit of coughs.

"It's just a dream..." he muttered and from the corner of his eye something rose up in the shadows, towering over him. Eyes glittering in the darkness it was something beyond description, phantasmagorical in it's immensity.

"Is it just a dream?" it hissed as the creature's face slid from under the shadows into view and all Jason could wonder was how it managed to be so articulate through such huge fangs. It smiled with a lipless mouth: "if it's just a dream why can't you wake up?"

He screamed but there was no sound. Only the sensation of his throat going raw as it dove at him jaws snapping-

Jason's eyes snapped open to the near pitch black of his motel room, his sweat soaked sheets and pounding heart. He rolled over to glance at the clock on the night stand which blinked 1:47am. He'd had less than an hour of sleep since his last nightmare.

They were getting worse and harder to remember. As he desperately scrabbled for any clues the memories of his dream slunk away back to the corners of his mind.

His friends, his failures, his fights as the Red Ranger and his time taking on the mantle of Gold Ranger from Trey of Triforia. It felt like his past was haunting him.

But why?

He slipped out of bed and headed for the tiny bathroom, splashing cold water on his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like hell with dark circles under his eyes and his skin so pasty and sickly looking. Scattered on the counter were half a dozen little bottles with various names and prescriptions. All sleep aids that had done nothing for him, he'd never get more than an hour before the... Nightmares happened. Nightmares that felt real. He'd done a little reading on PTSD, night terrors, even circumstances of tumors in the brain but being unable to talk to anyone about what the nightmares consisted of and why he might be having them really limited his ability to get help. Still, he chose three pills and popped in his mouth. He'd already tried every dosage, every combination and nothing got him into a sleep deep enough to escape whatever it was lurking on the edges of his mind. He closed his eyes and tried to will away the shivering sensation of his adrenaline struggling to keep him awake.

He swore even behind his eyelids something flickered as if pacing within caged walls. He opened his eyes and returned to bed hoping, as he did every night, that something would be different.

He never did fall back asleep.


End file.
